Already you flew four times and you are In that so tender breast, A lovely butterfly, now you are dead by the lamp. I do not desire light, nor am I so foolish; But I would want death Where fate did not want to give it to you. O sweet closing of eyes, If it will come to pass that I expire within it.
(Transl. by E. Ricciardi and A. McCue Gill)
Già tu volasti quattro volte e sei In quel petto sì molle, Vaga farfalla, or morta al lume sei. Non bramo io luce, né son tanto folle; Ma la morte vorrei Dove fortuna darla a te non volle. Oh dolce chiuder gli occhi, S’avverrà che spirare in lui mi tocchi!
